Contents of this magazine are copyrighted. Republication
of any part permitted when properly credited to
Capt. Billy’s Whiz Bang.
“We have room for but one soul loyalty and that is
loyalty to the American People.”—Theodore Roosevelt
Copyright 1921
By W. H. Fawcett
[Illustration]
Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and
dedicated to the fighting forces of the United States.
_Drippings From the Fawcett_
My friend Norton took me around Minneapolis recently on an evening’s
jaunt to see the “sights.” After visiting two or three moonlit stores,
Norton suggested that I be introduced to his sweetheart. Brother Norton,
being fairly well varnished with fusel oil and white mule, called at the
wrong house. A colored maid answered the door bell.
“Is (hic) Daisy at home?” he inquired.
“No, suh,” replied the maid.
“Then is Pansy here?” said Norton.
“No, suh.”
“Does Violet live here?”
“No, suh.”
“Then is (hic) Rose in?”
“No, suh, and look here, Mistuh, dis place ain’t no hot house.”
After which I led Brother Norton back to the flivver and we sojourned to
Dutch’s stag cafe for the remainder of the evening.
* * * * *
I’ve found another use for my flivver: Deacon Miller’s suckling colt
followed old Lizzie for half a mile the other day.
* * * * *
While at my Breezy Point cabin resort at Pequot I heard an interesting
story regarding the manner in which young Indian men woo their
sweethearts.
When the Indian feels a tug at his heart he will station himself with
a tom-tom in front of the tepee of his beloved and beat frantically on
the drum affair. If the girl loves him she comes out and the medicine
man does the rest. If she scorns his love she places a snow-shoe at the
wigwam entrance and the young chief goes back to his own tepee and keeps
on beating his tom-tom until some squaw girl takes pity and marries him.
* * * * *
Maggie, our new harvest cookhouse chef, lost her brooch the other night,
so she has prepared the following advertisement for the Whiz Bang:
“LOST—A cameo brooch representing Venus and Adonis on the Robbinsdale
road about ten o’clock on Wednesday evening.”
* * * * *
We’ve had a good laugh on our neighbor, Deacon Callahan, since the
episode several of us witnessed in front of the Palace Shoe Store in
Robbinsdale the other evening. The Deacon saw his wife coming down the
street, so he hid in the doorway of the Palace. When she passed him, he
jumped out suddenly and kissed her. Instead of the scream he expected,
she hoarsely whispered: “Don’t be so bold, mister. Folks ’round here know
me.”
* * * * *
Johnnie Beaton, of Ranier, Minn., tells about a period in his life when
old John Law grabbed out and placed him in the Ranier calaboose. He had
been inside but a short time when one of the local civic improvement
“birds” handed him the usual circular asking a donation for the
improvement of the local jail. Johnnie replied: “The present jail is good
enough to suit me.” Half an hour later, he organized a stud poker game.
As usual, the sucker squawked. His reply to the saphead was pert and to
the point: “Sh! keep still. Do you want to get thrown out of here?”
* * * * *
The “no booze” edict for soldiers during the recent friction with Germany
raised havoc with some of us rum-soaked sinners, but it also had its
comical side at times. I remember a system I put into effect in Camp Lee.
The first sergeant was informed that no passes would be granted to visit
Pennsylvania points (Pennsy was wet) unless the fortunate man returned
with proper credentials, said credentials to be deposited upon arrival in
the top drawer of the skipper’s desk in the orderly room. It was my duty
to check properly the pass“port.”
In our organization was a lieutenant whom we will call Evans for short.
Once upon a time Evans was in a mess (he often was, as far as that goes,
but this time I mean a mess where we eat), and in that mess there also
was a colonel—a man of meanness and incidentally a strict teetotaller.
This colonel saw, or thought he saw, in Evans a gentleman after his own
heart—a steady, yea, even puritanical, officer.
One early morning, Evans returned from a pass to Altoona, Pa., and
flopped his weary way to the mess hall. Collapsing in a seat, he played
with his fork and tried to look sober for a few minutes, and then giving
it up he concentrated on grub—or rather on waiters.
Near the mantelpiece in the mess stood what appeared to Evans to be the
waiter on duty, and he addressed this person—the only other person in the
mess—rather gruffly, I’m afraid.
“Heah—hic—orderly!” he exploded. “D’yuh think I’m—hic—sitting
here—hic—merely to provide you—hic—with a spectacle? I want some food....”
“I’m afraid, lieutenant,” came the acid reply, “that you are providing me
with a spectacle.”
“Good Gawsch!” spluttered Evans. “I thought you were an orderly. I beg
pardon, major; I didn’t shee you were the—hic—colonel.”
* * * * *
Speaking of abbreviated dress brings to mind a recent occurrence in the
St. Paul ball park, whence I had flivvered to watch Minneapolis lose to
the Saints. Coming out, after the game, I bumped into a small boy who had
become lost in the crowd. Upon inquiring why he was crying, he howled:
“I lost my mama.” “Why didn’t you hold to her skirts?” I asked. “I tried
to,” wept the kid, “but I couldn’t reach them.”
_Our Movie Gossips_
_California society whisperers frown on Edna Purviance’s
rumored engagement to scion of Los Angeles wealth? Can it be
Larry Semon “beat up” his leading lady, Lucille Carlisle? And
Katherine McDonald has something to worship! The male sissy of
the screen! Natalie Talmadge may find a snag in Buster Keaton’s
backyard? Join our monthly movie gossip club! These dainty
morsels are gathered by the Hollywood correspondent of this
great family journal._
By RICHMOND.
Of all girls in the movies, Edna Purviance has the softest snap. In the
last year and a half, almost two years, Charlie Chaplin has only made one
picture, “The Kid,” which barely occupied more than a few weeks of Edna’s
time. It’s true Edna doesn’t earn much compared to the other stars or
leading women of the screen—they say her contract with Charlie gives her
only $100 a week—but she has time—loads of it—and Edna plays the social
game in that spare time and doesn’t appear to worry her pretty head about
her career or future fame. She has an attractive but modest apartment, a
not too expensive car and maid and puts everything on her clothes, which
are of the smartest.
About two years ago Carleton Burke of Los Angeles began to “rush” Edna.
Carleton is considered the catch of the Pacific coast. He is wealthy—his
family is A-1 socially, Carleton is handsome, traveled and well educated
and has made a name as a polo player. He is also a member of all the
exclusive men’s clubs in San Francisco and Los Angeles.
Well, of course, when Carleton first took up Edna there was much
whispering concerning a Venice bungalow, after Charlie “discovered” the
fair manicurist in a small town near Frisco Bay. Could she be received?
If Carleton Burke meant to marry her, of course, she’d be taken up
eventually anyhow, and the Burkes are not the sort of people you can
snub. So Carleton’s sister, Louise, entertained Edna. The Claus Spreckels
at Coronada did the same and a few other of the selects followed the
lead. Edna accepted these favors with a very calm and ladylike demeanor
quite as if she had a perfect right to the best of social life, and
she created a favorable impression. Edna has sense enough not to carry
vulgar studio movie talk into the drawing rooms of people who wouldn’t
understand. She is never forward or bold and, with her undeniable beauty,
is surely an asset to any function.
However, Carleton has continued to take Edna about—to the Midwick and
other exclusive country clubs, but marriage has never “come off.”
Through Burke, Edna became acquainted with Mrs. Sallie Polk Merritt of
Pasadena—an attractive brunette of social standing but whose name has
been mentioned in a few sensational divorce mix-ups. Sallie and Edna are
bosom friends and go everywhere together.
It is now whispered about Los Angeles that the Burke family has decided
against the marriage.
Rather hard on Edna if she loves him, isn’t it? We don’t really know
whether she cares particularly or not.
* * * * *
Can it be that Larry Semon spanks his leading lady love, Lucille
Carlisle, when she doesn’t do as he likes? There was such a violent
spanking in the environs of the Vitagraph lot recently, that Lucille
retired to a hospital for a rest, and a new leading lady replaced her.
* * * * *
It is said the beautiful Katherine Macdonald, picture star, earns a mere
$40,000 per picture now. Despite the fact that Katherine looks eternally
sad in her pictures and shows not a glimmer of cheer or sense of humor,
people like to gaze on the American beauty and her clothes. Anyhow her
backers must make a profit or they wouldn’t come through with the “40
thou.” Now, it is said Katherine saves nearly every cent. She is reported
quite the most saving woman on the screen.
The social set like Katherine because she doesn’t get spiflicated
and run around with promiscuous ordinary movie folk, and because she
holds herself “cold and high.” The studio folk on her own lot say
she is “hard,” and that she won’t let them hire blondes for her
pictures because the sunlight has a way of making light hair stand out
conspicuously, and thus detracts from her own person.
Every week or so a San Francisco man named Morrell comes south, and they
say he visits Katherine. The couple are engaged, it is said, and when
her two-year contract is up, intend to marry and quit business for good.
Friends say they are both saving carefully toward that day.
The arithmetical problem is this: If Morrell earns “X” salary and
Katherine $40,000 per picture or about $240,000 a year, how much salt and
pepper will Morrell’s savings buy two years from now? How many steaks and
cream puffs can Katherine buy?
* * * * *
In a recent issue we dealt somewhat with the male sissy whose devastating
inroads have made themselves particularly felt in this Egyptianesque
hotbed of art, near art and the no end of things for which poor art is
blamed—Hollywood.
Our readers will recall that some months ago a very noted “heavy” of the
films, a man nearing the fifties and with a wealth of apparent masculine
comeliness, was arrested in company with another male person after a
perfectly inquisitive detective had watched them through a keyhole of the
film star’s home.
Broken in the prime of life, an object of scorn and with others fearing
to be seen in his company, even for business purposes, his plight is
a sorry one. More seldom as the months pass does his white head and
Romanesque profile appear upon the screen.
There is grim humor in the plight of this man. The name of an immensely
rich woman was mentioned in connection with his arrest. It was intimated
that he had grown cold in his attentions to her and that the detective
who trapped the two men was well paid with feminine gold. She must have
suspected something.
* * * * *
Wedding bells and hopeful love of man and woman seems to have broken out
afresh in the picture world. Wasn’t it in an issue four months back that
we confidentially confided to our readers that Charlie Chaplin was openly
adoring a sweet young thing of seventeen? Just about four months after
we cheered you with this item, the daily papers declaimed that all signs
and portents were to the effect that May Collins was to become the second
bride of the comedian.
Needless to say, Miss Collins by this time has been “interviewed.” With
the awe-striking wisdom of seventeen—some say she is younger—the girl
sets forth, or so she is quoted, a panacea for marriage ills. She did not
admit she was going to marry Charlie but she wasted no space in praising
anyone but him. It appears that if May marries Charlie that the path of
true art will not be tampered with and if Charles wishes to remain out on
business, or otherwise further his picture activities, that May will not
offer hindrance.
Mildred Harris, too, was seventeen when she married Charlie and
complained that the boy stayed away too much. Should May and Charlie hook
up we may be able to watch the theories of two seventeen-year-old misses
work out, as regards their ideas of what the lord and master should do.
* * * * *
When Buster Keaton goes out in the evening he takes his whole family.
There are so many of them we’ve lost count. Anyhow, when he goes down
to Sunset Inn at Santa Monica the waiters have to move three tables and
put them together so that all Buster’s family can be seated. There are
several sisters and as many younger brothers and a “Pa” and lots of aunts
and uncles. And Buster cheerfully pays the bill.
A little incident has been reported to the correspondent of this great
family journal. It appears Buster had been out with some lady of whom
his father objected, or had done something which his “Pa” didn’t like
and there was an argument over at the Metro studio. “Pa” perhaps hasn’t
forgotten his ancient and pleasant right of parental authority. However,
Buster is resourceful. It is said he put “Pa” in his dressing-room and
locked him up for the night, going on about his own business thereafter.
We wonder, if, when Natalie Talmadge marries Buster this spring, she will
have to lock his family in the closets occasionally in order to prevent
little rows!
* * * * *